


Brightest Star

by Caitlincheri28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant Death of Regulus Black, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Dumbledore's Armada: A Riddikulus Flash Competition, Good Regulus Black, Growing Up, Horcruxes, Kreacher's Cabinet, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28/pseuds/Caitlincheri28
Summary: Kreacher's cabinet wasn't always a place of wretchedness.It used to be safe and full of precious things.Until he failed to keep the most precious thing safe.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 30
Collections: A Riddikulus Flash Competition





	Brightest Star

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [RiddikulusComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RiddikulusComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Kreacher's Cabinet (place)
> 
> Thank you our amazing hosts, Mimi and Winky for providing such great prompts for this competition! <3

_ 1965 _

Kreacher opened the door to his cabinet and was immediately accosted by a head of black curls and two rosy, chubby cheeks. 

“Kreacher?” The tiny voice of young Master Regulus whispered frantically, “Kreacher, can I please hide in your room?” 

Kreacher stepped to the side and allowed his young master to enter his secluded cabinet. Plopping down on the floor next to Kreacher’s bed, Regulus breathed a sigh of relief. “Sirius won’t stop chasing me.”

“Young Master Regulus is always welcome into the home of Kreacher. Kreacher will keep Young Master safe.” 

Kreacher loved his young master. From the moment he entered the world, Master Regulus had stolen Kreacher’s heart. He was named after one of the brightest stars in the galaxy and Kreacher considered him the brightest star in his life. He was a calm and quiet child who loved nothing more than to snuggle up on Kreacher’s lap with a book — and Kreacher was more than happy to oblige. Where Master Sirius was cruel and taunting of Kreacher, Master Regulus was always kind and gentle; he never pulled on Kreacher’s ears or chased him around with wooden swords. 

Kreacher noticed Regulus looking around the small room. This was the first time Kreacher had allowed the four year old child into his space. His cabinet was neat, if not plain. Houselves weren’t known for their many possessions, but Kreacher had a nice soft bed, a rocking chair, and a bookshelf filled with random books that his Mistress didn’t want anymore. Under his bed lived a small box filled with the treasures he felt most precious to him — tokens he had collected over a lifetime. He felt safe and secure in his small room. 

“You don’t have any toys.” Kreacher’s heart melted again at the look of concern that painted his young master’s face. 

“Kreacher doesn’t need toys, Master Regulus.”

The concern on his face shifted to a look of determination, “I am going to fill your room with things to make you smile, Kreacher.” Giving Kreacher a fierce nod, Regulus stood and walked over to the bookshelf. Pulling out a dusty old book of poems, he wandered over to Kreacher and asked, “Will you read me your favourite, Kreacher?” 

Kreacher nodded, sitting down in his rocking chair. As he flipped to the most well-worn page, Regulus smiled excitedly and said, “Maybe by the time you’re done reading, Sirius will have forgotten he was chasing me and we can go make lemon tarts!” 

Staring down into the young master’s hopeful and angelic face, Kreacher replied “Of course, Master Regulus. Kreacher would be most happy to serve.” 

*****************************

_ 1972 _

“REGULUS!” The voice of Sirius bellowed through the house. “We are leaving! You better not make me late or  _ you are going to get it!” _

Kreacher looked over to Master Regulus who sat curled up next to Kreacher’s bed. He had been hiding in Kreacher’s room all morning, terrified of leaving. Wiping the tears that slowly fell from his dark eyes, Regulus whispered, “Why can’t you come with me?” 

“Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Master Regulus.” Kreacher couldn’t tell his young master that his heart was also breaking in two. He didn’t want Master Regulus to leave — he didn’t want to lose the glow from his favourite star. 

“I am part of the House of Black, Kreacher. I am telling you that I  _ need _ you. Sirius told me that he’s seen house-elves at Hogwarts.” His voice sounded desperate as he rose to his feet. “Please, Kreacher. What if I don’t make any friends?” He took a deep breath and whispered softly, “What if no one likes me?” 

“Oh, Master Regulus will make many friends at Hogwarts, Kreacher knows.” He reached out, taking his young master’s hand. “Kreacher will be here when you come home, Master Regulus.” 

Regulus sniffed and pulled Kreacher into a crushing hug. “I will write to you, Kreacher. I promise.” 

Kreacher stepped back and opened the door to his cabinet. His cabinet was now littered with countless precious things that Master Regulus had presented him over the years — things too big to fit inside his box. An old stuffed puppy that lived on his pillow; a pretty rock on his bookshelf that his young master found while exploring in the backyard; a soft yellow blanket that had been loved and snuggled by his young master until the edges frayed. 

“Kreacher looks forward to receiving your letters, Master Regulus.” 

As Regulus stepped out of the small cabinet, he handed Kreacher a box wrapped in beautiful green paper. “Goodbye, Kreacher.” 

Kreacher waited until after his master had left before opening the tiny parcel. Inside was a small wooden plaque in which Regulus had carved his namesake constellation. Kreacher placed it next to his bed and began to weep. 

Yes. Master Regulus was most precious to Kreacher. 

*****************************

_ 1977 _

A loud thud awoke Kreacher from his dreamless sleep. He sat up, hearing soft whimpers outside of his room. He recognised those whimpers and immediately rushed to open the door. 

Though the room was filled with darkness, he could make out the form of Regulus; curled in the fetal position, clutching his left arm. Kreacher dropped to his knees and reached out to move his master’s curls away from his eyes. 

“Kreacher...it hurts,” Regulus sobbed, curling into himself, continuing to clutch his left forearm. “I made a mistake.”

Kreacher didn’t know what to do. He gently wrapped his arms around Regulus and pulled him into the safety of his cabinet. He couldn’t hug his master as he used to — his chubby cheeks having shifted into the sharp angles of a young man. A young man who was capable of making his own choices, including the wrong ones. He grabbed his pillow and the soft yellow blanket, hoping it would provide his master with some comfort. As he gently ran his fingers through his hair, Kreacher asked, “What happened Master Regulus?” 

Regulus let out another sob. “I...I took The Mark tonight, Kreacher.” He flung his right arm over to pull up his sleeve, “See? I belong to The Dark Lord, now.” 

Kreacher had heard the rumours of The Dark Lord; a man who was trying to rid the world of mudbloods and blood traitors to create a utopia of purebloods. Kreacher knew through quiet whisperings and secret meetings that The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black supported the agenda. He also knew that recently, Master Sirius had been unceremoniously removed from the family tapestry for refusing to support this new Dark Lord and his mission.

As Kreacher looked into the dark eyes of his young master, he felt anger welling. Anger that his Mistress would support the young master in taking such an evil mark. Anger that this most precious boy was in pain — and at barely sixteen, he was  _ just _ a boy. Kreacher felt a tear escape, gently falling from his eye and landing at the tip of his nose. “What can Kreacher do, Master Regulus? How can Kreacher keep Master Regulus safe?” 

“Help me, Kreacher. You have to help me stop him.” 

*****************************

_ 1979 _

Kreacher breathed heavily as he stared at the destruction that lay at his feet. 

In his grief, he had torn through his cabinet like a violent tornado — throwing, ripping, exploding  _ everything. _

He told his master he would help him rid the world of The Dark Lord. He’d  _ promised _ . So, Kreacher went to the cave. He drank the potion and felt the cold fingers of death gently caress his cheeks. But he  _ promised _ he’d come back to his master and he had used every ounce of determination and ancient elf magic to do so. 

It was all for nothing. 

His master demanded they go back. He demanded Kreacher help him drink the potion, no matter how hard Kreacher pleaded and cried. 

“ _ Please Master Regulus.” Kreacher clutched tightly to Regulus and sobbed. “Please let Kreacher drink the water. Kreacher is old and Master is young.”  _

But his mind was made up and no amount of reasoning could break his decision. 

_ “Kreacher...I can’t make you drink it again. It almost killed you — an innocent.” Regulus shook his head. “No. It has to be me. I made the choice to take The Mark.” Kneeling down, he took Kreacher’s hands into his own. “You have been my greatest friend, Kreacher. Now please, when this is over destroy the locket. No matter what the potion makes me say or do.” A single tear fell as he gently whispered, “And that’s an order.”  _

_ Kreacher’s heart shattered as he stared through his tears and responded, “Kreacher would be most happy to serve, Master Regulus.”  _

Kreacher was forced to cradle his master’s head in his lap and push the murky liquid down his throat. He was forced to listen to his master’s cries and whimpers. He looked so young and innocent — leaning his head into Kreacher’s chest as Kreacher tried to soothe the pain and nightmares away — like he had done when Regulus was a child. 

Then, Kreacher had to watch as his precious boy was pulled into the cursed lake by hundreds of slimy, evil creatures. Tossing the locket aside, he tried with all of his might to reach him, but not even ancient elf magic could break through a command from his master. His legs were frozen to the spot and Kreacher was forced to watch as his young master deliriously reached out a pleading hand, begging with his dying breath to go back to Kreacher’s cabinet. To go back where Kreacher could keep him safe. 

His cabinet would never be safe again. 

Kreacher stared down at the black locket — its chain laced through his twisted fingers. The locket that he promised to destroy and that Master Regulus was willing to die for. 

He would make it his life’s mission to destroy the locket that destroyed his precious boy.    
  
Kreacher loved precious things. He held them close and kept them safe in a box under his bed. 

But there was nothing ever so precious as his young master — with his head of dark curls and heart as pure and bright as his namesake. 

And Kreacher had failed to keep him safe. 

His cabinet, his most sacred space would now forever be a reminder that he had failed to keep his master safe. He would live as he deserved — in the ruin, chaos, and destruction that he brought upon himself.

Kreacher vowed to never repair it until he fulfilled his master’s final command.


End file.
